


The Glimmer of a Pearl

by tourtereauxdoux



Category: British Actor RPF, Crimson Peak (2015), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Gods & Goddesses, Alternate Universe - Greek Mythology, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Letters, M/M, Magic, Nabokov References, Other, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Slow Burn, Smoking, This is going to be good, Vaginal Sex, Vaguely God-Like, Witchcraft, mature themes, sort of all the gods, tons of french, you guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-25
Updated: 2018-07-08
Packaged: 2019-05-28 15:52:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,379
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15052643
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tourtereauxdoux/pseuds/tourtereauxdoux
Summary: The gold of his hair shimmered in the sun as the wind blew. Flushed cheeks and pale skin stood out against the blue of the sky, and the scent of gardenias filled Thomas' nose. His boy by the sea.  //





	1. Introductions

_Mr. Hiddleston:_

_I think you meant to send your letter to my neighbor, Mrs. Grise,_ _but you wrote the wrong address number._ _Her house is 130 Lumine Drive. I apologize for reading your letter, but I did not notice that it was not for my_ _mother or step-father until halfway through._

_Lumi Hafnyra_

 

_P.S._

_I love your handwriting! It's very pretty._

 

  Lumi licked the envelope, closing it up neatly. He noted the blue ink on the left side of his hand and grimaced. He hoped that "Mr. Hiddleston" wouldn't judge his handwriting too much. George always told him that it was too pretty and posh. Sitting up from his desk, he blew out the vanilla candle by his pen cup and placed one of the floral stamps on the envelope in his hand. The storm harshened outside, and Lumi tugged his windbreaker on, pulling the hood up to protect his glasses and tucking the letter behind the zipper. Sneaking out from his room, he tip toed down the stairs, bare feet padding quietly on the wood.  

  

  The living room TV blared, the sounds of people shouting on some reality show blending with the drumming of the rain on the roof. Lumi tripped on a can of Diet Coke in front of the doorway, and he stilled, hoping George didn't hear. He sneaked a peek in the room, seeing George's greasy face shine in the blue light of the television. Coke had spilled onto his white t-shirt, and he raised another can up to his lips, more Coke dripping down his chin. Lumi tiptoed past the doorway, walking past the old family pictures hanging in the hallway. His mother and step-father's eyes followed him through the hall, and he kept his face down towards the ratty grey carpet. Hurrying towards the front door, he opened the door quickly, running out into the rain towards the mailbox by the driveway. Stuffing the letter into the box, he ran back towards the door, the warm concrete of the driveway under his feet. 

 

Closing the door, Lumi crept over towards the stairs again, rushing towards his sanctuary. The screaming of the TV followed him to his room, and he shivered in the cold of the room, his wet hair dripping onto the wood. He threw his windbreaker onto the desk chair and hurriedly changed into a clean, dry t-shirt. His mother wouldn't return until early in the morning, and he didn't want to stay up with George in the house. Falling asleep in his little bed, he wrapped the duvet around him tightly, the cold setting into his bones. 

 

_"Darling?"_

_The sunlight flooded the garden, belle-de-jours and blood-red sunflowers scenting the air. His gauzy dress tickled his bare feet,_ _the yellow train trailing behind him. Chilly arms wrapped around him, the sound of the sea filling Lumi's ears as he felt warm lips_ _press below his left ear._

 

 

            


	2. Break

  Lumi gasped, shooting straight up in his bed. He wrapped his arms around his waist, feeling the sensation of cold arms around him. His alarm clock's blue lights flooded the room, screaming four-forty-three at him. An empty feeling filled his chest, and he sniffled. Standing up, Lumi made his bed, padding over to his mirror, running his fingers through his wild blond curls. The person who looked back at him frowned at the sight of dark bags under dull blue-green eyes. He tugged blue jeans up his pale, chubby legs, white stretch marks contrasting with the bruises on his right hip and thigh. Pulling on a black hoodie, he grabbed his green backpack from the corner of his bed, slinging it on his back.  

 

  When he got downstairs, George was passed out on the leather couch, the TV still screaming. The blue curtains filtered the sunlight through the windows, making his flesh seem sickly and blue. Sneaking around him, Lumi walked towards the kitchen, finding his tired mother standing in front of the island. She was sipping a cup of coffee, her teal scrubs matching the peeling paint on the wall. She barely acknowledged him, nodding slightly before turning to leave the room. Lumi grabbed an apple from the bowl on the island, slipping on his green converses and running out to his bike in the garage. The cherry red metal of the bike was fading slightly, but Lumi had fixed parts of it with orangeyred nail polish. 

 

  It was still drizzling, but the rain had mostly gone as Lumi rode towards the library. Mrs. Grise would still be at home, but Lumi liked to be early so he could practice more. Pulling up to the back door of the building, he fished through his backpack for the keys, the jangling ringing through his ears as he pulled his bike into the storeroom. Turning the lights on, the library filled with gold, and Lumi sat down behind the front counter, laying his bag under it after taking his note-book and french textbook out. 

 

_Si j'avais d'argent, j'achèterais une nouvelle vie._

 

_J'aimerais un chat, mais ma mère est allergique._

 

_La mer est plein d'eau et poissons, mais elle n'a pas les sirènes._

 

  The jingling of keys brought Lumi's head up, and Mrs. Grise's magenta figure stood against the grey of the outside as she unlocked the front door. 

 

"Bonjour, Lumi! Comment ça va?" 

 

"Bonjour, Madame Grise! Ça va bien ce matin. Et vous?" 

 

"Je me sens fatiguée."

 

She walked over towards him, leaning over his shoulder to check Lumi's work. Lumi's cheeks flushed, as she praised his work. 

 

"Mrs. Grise, a letter for you arrived at my house yesterday. I actually brought it here. It's from somebody named Thomas Hiddleston?" 

 

Lumi's voice sounded curious, and the magenta figure stilled at the name. 

 

"Did you read it?"

 

Her tone was tense, and Lumi turned towards her. 

 

"Only halfway. Is something wrong?" 

 

"No, no, child. That is just a name I haven't heard in a long time." 

 

"It's right here." 

 

  Lumi pulled the envelope out of his backpack and handed it to her. The clock chimed seven, and Mrs. Grise shambled over towards the backroom, mumbling something about reading it later. Lumi flipped the closed sign over, sighing.

 

/// 

 

  Organizing the books was his favorite activity. There was a whole section for recommended books that he was permitted to choose, and this week he had chosen several of his favorites.  _Lolita_ , _T_ _he Importance of Being Earnest_ ,  _The Wars of the Roses_ by Alison Weir, and  _The Art Spirit_. Mostly, the people in his town weren't interested in literature unrelated to fishing or kissing, but Lumi always hoped that somebody would look at the recommended section. The front door bell tinkled, and the sound of the rain came in, the spray soaking the dark green doormat. Turning to see who had come in, his eyes widened. Black glasses, black velvet, black pants, black shoes had entered the building, framing a tall, pale man with short dark hair. He did not match the usual townsperson, a small sparkle visible at the top button of his shirt. Somehow, he knew that was a real diamond.  

 

"Do you work here?" 

 

His voice was startlingly deep. And British. 

 

"Uh- uh. Yes." 

 

Curses. He sounded like a twelve-year old. The man smiled, seemingly amused by Lumi's awkward behavior. 

 

"I'd like a library card, love." 

 

 The flush rose on his cheeks, and Lumi nodded, mutely. 

 

"I can do it at the desk. Just let me put these down." 

 

  Lumi's voice was shaky, and he lay the stack of books on a nearby table. The man followed him to the front desk, and he suddenly wished he hadn't worn a hoodie today. It's not every day a hot British person comes into town. Behind the desk, he looked up at his face. The man still hadn't taken his glasses off. While Lumi was booting up the old computer, the man tapped his well-manicured nails on the yellow counter, seemingly lost in thought.  

 

"I'll need your name." 

 

The man startled. 

 

"...For the card, sir." 

 

"Of course. Of course." 

 

Lumi looked at him expectantly, raising an eyebrow.  

 

"Can I,  uh, have it?" 

 

"Yes. Yes. Benedict Cumberbatch." 

 

Typing into the computer, he nodded. 

 

"Date of birth?" 

 

"July nineteenth. 1976." 

 

  Lumi printed the card out, the warm, cream-colored card printed with fresh black ink. Handing it towards Benedict, he smiled slightly. 

 

"That'll be three dollars." 

 

  Benedict dug through his pocket, pulling out a thick leather wallet and tugging three bills out of it and passing them towards Lumi. He placed them in the jar behind the desk, thanking him. Black shoes tapped onto the cheap yellow linoleum, and he strode out the front door after leaving a quiet thank you. Lumi let out a breath he didn't know he was holding in, relaxing. Returning to the books he'd been sorting, he shelved the books quietly, savoring the soft rhythm of the rain. Thunder cracked, the noise reverberating through his body. 

 

  Mrs. Grise came up to the front. 

 

"Lumi, you'd better go home while you can. I'll close up." 

 

"Are you sure, Mrs. Grise? I can stay, it's fine." 

 

She waved her hand in his direction. 

 

"No, no, child. I don't want you to get struck by lightning." 

 

A giggle bubbled up from his chest, before he realized that she was being serious. 

 

"I don't think that will happen to me." 

 

"It's more likely than you think, child. Go home. It's late, anyway. Nearly six thirty." 

 

  He nodded, gathering his bag from behind the desk and stuffing his notebook inside. Mrs. Grise nodded too, seemingly transfixed by the storm, before reaching out to grab his arm. 

 

"Be safe." 

 

  Lumi tugged his arm away, surprised at the sudden change in tone. He nodded quietly, walking to the storeroom and wheeling his bike outside. The wind whipped his hair around, and he pulled his hood up to protect his face from the sharp rain. Hopping on his bike, he started the long ride home, the water soaking through his hoodie and jeans. Dark clouds coated the sky, and it started to look like nighttime. A little of the way through, his bike made a loud screeching sound and he came to a sudden halt, nearly falling off into the mud. 

 

"Fuck." 

 

  Leaning down to see what had happened, it appeared that the front tire had just popped off of it's own volition. The storm worsened and a cold wind blew threw him. Goosebumps rose on his skin, and he let out a frustrated cry, tears coming to his eyes. He pulled back, sitting dejectedly in the mud. 

  The headlights of a car suddenly appeared, and he moved away from the side of the road. The car pulled up on the side, all sleek black metal in the darkness. Driver-side window rolled down, the smell of cigars wafting out. 

 

"Are you okay?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I lied. I can't stop writing. Eventually it will be every week or so.
> 
> Aurelie


	3. Secret

  The voice was familiar, a British accent coming through the torrent. 

 

"No... I, can you give me a ride?" 

 

"Of course, love. Get in. Sorry about your bike." 

 

  Lumi nodded, stumbling to the passenger side, backpack right next to him. He slid into the black car, dripping water from his curls onto the dark leather. He recognized who the man was now. It was the British guy who had gotten a library card earlier today. 

 

"Thank you, Mr, uh, Cumberbatch." 

 

 He shivered, the cold soaking into his bones and wrapped his arms around himself. Benedict adjusted the heat, his slim, pale fingers wrapping around the knob before moving to the wheel. He accelerated, a smooth purr coming from the car. Nodding slightly, he turned towards Lumi. Lightning split the sky, the yellow lighting the right side of his face. He was still wearing sunglasses, even in the darkness. 

 

"Ah," he recognized him, "you are the boy who works at the library. I didn't catch your name." 

 

"My name is Lumi." 

 

"Lumi." He smiled, a toothy, predatory grin that made Lumi shiver. "A lovely name. Where do you live?" 

 

"I live on Lumine Drive. You're going the right way already." Lumi tugged at the seams of his jeans nervously. 

 

"Lumi from Lumine Drive. What were you doing out there on a bike? Shouldn't your parents pick you up?" 

 

"No," Benedict made a sharp turn, "my mother works late and my step-father doesn't drive." 

 

The car seemed to growl. 

 

"Shame." 

 

He turned towards the road again, humming a familiar tune. 

 

"Were you born here, Lumi?"  

 

Lumi startled. 

 

"No... my father disappeared when I was five and my mother moved us here from New York with George." 

 

  Benedict turned his head, much like a dog, and regarded him curiously. A glint of recognition shone in his eyes, visible somehow through his glasses. Lumi buried himself into the black leather chair, rubbing his eyes tiredly. The heater in his seat had turned on, but a chill still filled the car, seemingly emanating from Benedict. Outside, fog swirled, thick and dark. It had stopped raining when he wasn't looking, and the swirls of fog surrounded the vehicle, licking up the sides. A fatigue had set in, and Lumi yawned, clutching his bag close to his chest. The headlights lit the blue street sign for Lumine Drive, reflective paint gleaming down. 

 

"I live at 134, but you can drop me off right here." He didn't want George to see Benedict's car.

 

 A sigh left the driver. "Nonsense. I can drive a couple extra feet. I have a friend who lives here as well."

 

"Please drop me off here." Lumi's voice had grown small, and he looked down where his hands lay on his thighs.  

 

 A look of concern came over Benedict's face, and he parked the car, the sudden stillness coming over them both.  

 

"Why?" 

 

"My parents will be mad at me." 

 

 The outside grew darker, the fog thickening. The smell of cigars became stronger and the pungent scent filled his nose.  

 

"Okay, Lumi of Lumine Drive. I'll drop you off here. I will see you again." His voice was deeper, almost layered. 

 

Lumi trembled. "Thank you," he whispered.  

 

Benedict pulled a black card out of his pocket. It shimmered in the moonlight, the ink glowing white against the dark. A number lay on it: 

_595-231-7432_

 

"Call me if you ever have need of help."

  The card felt smooth and cool in Lumi's hand. Benedict's eyes followed him as he got out of the car, thanking him quietly and pulling his backpack on. The fog surrounded him in the rich darkness of the night, stars sparkling in the blackness of the sky. With a gentle purr, the sleek car pulled away, the scent of cigars lingering in the humid air. Tightening his backpack straps, he carefully maneuvered his way through the mud to the top of the thin concrete driveway. The sickly grass of the front yard disappeared under the fog, attempting to sneak into the house through the door when Lumi opened it. The door squeaked, Lumi wincing at the sound. Cigarette smoke traveled through the house from the den, and the sound of male voices shouting could be heard. The blue smoke trailed after Lumi as he sneaked upstairs, holding his breath. 

 

  A soft sigh left his lips as he closed the door behind him, leaning against it. Dropping his backpack on the floor, he relaxed, unzipping his hoodie and throwing it on the bed. He reached under the bed, pushing past the piles of books and pulling an old shoebox out. Three granola bars lay inside, along with a small tube of lip gloss. Lumi's stomach growled at the sight of them. Pulling one out, he tucked the box back under the bed, covering the opening with the duvet. Chewing, he played with the black card, running his fingertips over the smooth gloss of the ink. A chill struck him and he sat down on the bed, crawling towards the cool window. Mrs. Grise's house stood across, magenta flowers lining her driveway. 

 

  The alarm clock lit the room, it's blue light spelling out the time. Nine twenty-two? How long had he been in Benedict's car? He wrapped the duvet around him, freezing suddenly. On his nightstand, he picked up  _Women in Love_ , trying to distract himself from the shouting downstairs and the sudden cold. His eyes grew heavy, eyelashes fluttering against his cheek. A yawn escaped him and he slipped into a deep, uninterrupted darkness, the cool card against his cheek. 

 

/// 

 

  Mrs. Grise poured her tea carefully, the china cracked on one side. Pink flowers grew up the side, matching her nails. A knock at the door surprised her, a drop flicking on the white tile floor. She tottered over to the door. 

 

"Lorraine?" 

 

  Shock ran through her. That voice.  

 

"Or should I call you Flora?" 

 

  She opened the door cautiously, eyeing the man on the other side. He stepped in confidently, the black of his outfit sapping the color out of the room. The hyacinths of the wallpaper seemed to wilt, dulling in his presence. He smiled toothily, eye lines crinkling under his dark sunglasses.

 

"Flora. It has been so long." 

 

She snorted. 

 

"Not long enough. Is that a new accent?"

 

"Yes, darling. I find the boys in America love a British accent. You work with a darling boy, by the way. Little tiny thing." 

 

She bristled. He sounded far too  _interested_.  

 

"I thought I sensed you here earlier. Don't you dare touch him." 

 

He waved a hand dismissively. 

 

"Of course I won't. Aren't you going to invite me for tea?" 

 

"I was taking it in the living room. I'm sure you already know where it is." 

 

  He grinned, striding down the hallway to the living room. The whole house stunk of flowers. The living room was all pinks and golds, an ornate magenta canapé sitting in the middle, fresh anemones in a vase on the coffee table. She tottered in, a tray with a tea set in her hands. Setting it down on the coffee table, she sat down on a fainting couch across from the canapé. He smiled at her again, picking up his teacup and a small cookie. 

 

"What name are you using now?"  

 

"Benedict. I figured if I was going to be British, I should be aggressively, no?" 

 

Flora snorted again, hiding a laugh into her teacup. 

 

"I am Mrs. Lorraine Grise, town librarian." She motioned to her body; "I rather enjoy being old. Nobody has tried to kidnap me in twenty years."

 

 Benedict laughed, a short, barking sound. 

 

"Have you read Thomas' letter yet?" 

 

"No. It was sent to my neighbors instead. I am very glad," she sipped her tea delicately, "that the boy read it and not his family. Horrible people."

 

A shadow of intrigue flickered across Benedict's face. 

 

"He did read it? Should we be worried?" 

 

"No, no. He is safe. I have been watching him for some time." 

 

  The two of them sat like old friends, the edge gone from the discussion. Benedict smiled, looking through the living room window at the house across the street. He could see the boy, wrapped in a thick blanket, reading. Blinking, he gently tugged the glasses down his nose, keeping his eyes on Lumi as he fell over, pushing him into a deep sleep. Pulling them back up to cover his eyes, he turned back to Flora, a secret little shiver of elation running up his spine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you guys think?


	4. Calls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I, uh, actually edited this chapter a little bit because I didn't like the tone it set.

_Mr. Lumi Hafnyra:_

_Thank you for your letter. I must say that I was a little surprised at the delivery of your letter, but I was pleasantly surprised once I opened it. Indeed, I did intend to write to "Mrs. Grise", as you call her, and was, perhaps, a little too confident in my admittedly poor memory. You have very lovely handwriting as well. Maybe I will ask Lorraine about the boy with the pretty handwriting when I come down to visit._

_Cordially,_

_Thomas William Hiddleston_

 

  Lumi's cheeks flushed at the flirtatious tone of the letter. No one had ever written a letter to him, let alone one so fancy. Even the address was written in old-fashioned cursive, twirling around on the thick, heavy envelope. The paper even smelled like warm men's cologne. The address was very vague, simply reading: 

_Thomas William Hiddleston_

_Agesandre, England_

_73326_

The sun peeked out from behind the clouds, and Lumi startled. He stood right next to the mailbox, his mother's grey-blue car on the dull, concrete driveway. The grass in the front yard was sparse and bare, patches of dirt visible in the bright sun. The envelope felt too heavy in his hand, and he tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans. He'd never heard of Agesandre, England in geography. He could look for it in the library tomorrow. Mrs. Grise had called him early in the morning and said she was ill, and preferred Lumi to not be by himself. The sun beat down on him, heat rising suddenly from the concrete. Yesterday it had stormed all night, but Lumi hadn't woken up once, even from the shouting downstairs. He felt surprisingly well-rested, though a lingering headache had seemed to follow him since the morning. Flicking a mosquito off his arm, he made his way inside, careful to close the door lightly. His mother had arrived early, only a few minutes after Lumi had woken, mumbling something to him about a rush at the hospital before going upstairs to the bedroom. 

 

  The house was cool still, the air conditioning humming gently in the background. George had left only a few minutes ago, he and his buddies as raucous as usual as they hopped into a taxi. He never wanted to know what they did these days. Checking in to the state of the living room, Lumi sighed. The TV stood in the center of the room, mostly unharmed but for a few cigarettes scattered on the top. The steel-colored couch sat a few feet away, the middle sagging from the weight of a multitude of middle-aged drunks sitting on it, and black circles suspiciously similar to the ends of Camels were etched into the cheap felt. A veritable mountain of Busch cans sat on the coffee table, but mercifully few had spilled onto the floor. Grabbing a garbage bag from under the sink, Lumi went to work, holding his breath around the smelliest sections. 

 

/// 

 

  Clouds gathered overhead in the dusk as Lumi rode his old blue bike to town. His town was very small, only three streets converging in the center. It had been hit by the recession hard, and most of the businesses had closed down. A burger joint sat on the right of main street, it's scarlet open sign lighting the sidewalk. Lumi rode past towards Brent's bright yellow cursive, flickering slightly. A cool breeze blew through Main Street and ruffled his yellow-blonde curls, causing Lumi to tighten his wrinkly black hoodie. The sky crackled, lightning splitting the sky. He tied his bike up against a dead street lamp, running quickly inside. 

 

  Soft, generic music played in the background of the convenience store, the pale lights washing out the room. The counter was empty, but a rustling could be heard in the back office. He walked towards the grocery aisle with his squeaking wet shoes, fingering his mother's credit card in his right pocket. The tinkle of the little door-bell rang, rain falling onto the cheap linoleum floor. Lumi was leaning down towards the milk when a  _presence_ came up behind him. A drop of rain fell onto his shoulders, and he turned, running into a wall of white cotton. A  _very_ tall man stood in front of him, long red hair and beard dripping onto Lumi's ratty Converses. He wore a black three-piece suit with a small pink gladiolus in his lapel, and a massive ruby on his right ring finger that sparkled in the light. He was just... staring at him, eyes running over his body. Lumi shivered slightly and motioned a little 'excuse me' towards him. The man moved to the right, leaning against a shelf of bright red apples. 

 

  Lumi murmured a quiet thank you, still holding the milk. He coughed slightly and walked towards a shelf of granola bars, picking a few up and taking them to the counter. A sickly looking teenage boy Lumi vaguely remembered from gym class rang him up. Hands shaking, Lumi passed the blue credit card to him, feeling the man's gaze on his back. A loud sound emitted from the scanner and Lumi winced. 

 

"Cards declined." Could this kid look anymore apathetic? 

 

"That can't be." His voice trembled, worrying his bottom lip. 

 

  The  _presence_ came up behind him again. He hadn't noticed the  _scent_ before. Like... rich, dark chocolate, the kind Lumi could never buy, and strong, spicy cologne that reminded him of gold. It was oddly familiar, but he couldn't place it. 

 

"I will pay, if the boy will permit me."  The voice was distinctively British, with just a hint of something darker.  

 

Lumi's cheeks flushed, and he spoke quietly. 

 

"It's not necessary, sir. Thank you, though." 

"Are you sure? It is no problem." 

 

A little giggle left Lumi's lips despite the inappropriate situation, and he turned towards him. 

 

"I'm sure, thank you." His voice had returned to quiet, embarrassed. 

 

  He moved to return the goods, tucking the blue card back into his pocket. The rain banged on the windows harshly, and Lumi exited as the man started to pay for a box of Virginia Slims. He pulled his hood up, the water soaking quickly through the fabric. Untying his bike, he hopped on, the tires squeaking with age as he raced down the sidewalk. There seemed to be an inane number of intimidating British men in his little town recently. 

 

/// 

 

  George was home. The living room lights were on and his mother's car was gone. Hurriedly putting the bike up in the garage next to his busted red one, he smiled at the sight of it. It had  _mysteriously_ appeared this morning in the driveway, but he knew who had dropped it off. Tugging off his soaked hoodie, he left it with his wet shoes by the garage door. Tip toeing into the hall, he grimaced at the smell of cigarettes. A grunt left the living room. 

 

"Boy? Is that you?" His voice was like sandpaper.

 

"Uhm, yes sir." 

 

"Come here. I want to talk to you." 

 

Lumi stood in front of the couch quietly, tugging on the seams of his sleeves. 

 

"You see this?" He pointed to a stain on the couch. Lumi was sure he'd never seen it before.

 

"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, I didn't notice it." 

 

"What did I tell you about leaving the house without finishing your chores?" His voice was rising slowly, and Lumi shrunk back. 

 

"That, uh, that I'm not allowed to." 

 

"Yeah, uh, yeah you're not allowed to!", George parroted back, raising his voice to a mocking squeak. 

 

"I'll clean it up right now." 

 

"You want me to move? So YOU can fix your mistakes? No. That's not how this works. You'll do it tomorrow, and if you don't, I'll keep you in here all summer. Are we clear?" An edge, all too familiar to Lumi, was in his voice, and all he could do was nod mutely. 

 

   George waved his hand as he shrunk back into the couch, indicating for Lumi to leave. He couldn't get out fast enough, near sprinting upstairs to his room. His hands shook slightly and he sat down on the unmade bed, moonlight streaming into his room from the window. Taking a deep breath, he gasped a little bit, sucking in the cool air of his room. Gripping the sheets, his fingers brushed against the card that Benedict had given him earlier. He picked it up delicately between his fingers, running his thumb over the numbers.

  _595-231-7432_  

  He looked at the bag hanging on his wall, wondering if the old flip phone his mother had given him last year still worked. It was pink. And sparkly. But if it worked, who would care? He pulled it out of the bag, staring at the screen as it booted up, a little bell-tone leaving it. Fuck it. He dialed the numbers, worrying his bottom lip again as he pressed call. Bringing it up to his ear, the ring-tone beeped until a sudden silence. 

 

"Hello?"


	5. Rebirth

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I EDITED chapter 4. Slightly. To change the tone.

  The two men sat across from each other, eyeing one another. Both were clad in onyx suits that soaked in the light of the sparsely decorated living room. Benedict still wore his trademark sunglasses, and the red-haired man across from him fidgeted with his ruby ring, a glass of wine in his hand. The only thing in between their chairs, a dark, rich mahogany for Benedict, and a forest green for the red-haired man, was a black coffee table coated in opened envelopes. The doorbell rang, the sound echoing through the large, empty house, before the door was opened with a wave of the red-haired man's hand. A distinct figure entered; a tall, dark-skinned woman with thick, black curls on her head strode in, stopping as if to take in the room. She walked towards Benedict, smiling.

 

"It's been too long, cousin." 

 

A grin escaped him. 

 

"It has." 

 

  Benedict stood up, encasing the woman in a hug. The red-haired man only stared, taking a sip of wine.

 

"The others will be coming in over the next week. My nephew," he motioned to the red-haired man, "will be helping keep the peace, and I will be aiding anyone who needs help, 'fitting in'."  

 

The dark-skinned woman coughed. 

 

"Will we be... introducing ourselves later? I have not seen some of them in a long time."

 

"We can," Benedict said. "My name is Benedict. Flora is here as well, her name is Lorraine. Nephew?" 

 

The red haired-man hummed softly.

 

"My name is Thomas. It is good to see you, aunt." 

 

"Nephew." The tone was cordial but cold. "I am still Felicity." 

 

A short laugh escaped Thomas. "What a lovely choice of name, aunt." 

 

  She ignored him, waving her hand over the floor. Sickly yellow-white tendrils emanated from the spot, the vaguest suggestion of a chair appearing. It seemed to solidify as she sat down, shifting ever so slightly. A stray tendril escaped, circling the room, until it came to Thomas. The tendril burst into flames when it came too close, nothing but a few ashes left on the floor to suggest it's existence. Felicity conjured a small glass of shimmery white liquid in her hand, downing it in one go. She turned towards Benedict, clearly intent on some sort of deep conversation, when the sound of a phone echoed through the room. Benedict tugged a sleek black phone from his pocket. 

 

"Hello?" 

 

/// 

 

  Lumi shivered. The night was unusually cold and dark, the pink phone weighing down his right pocket. Benedict's car, dark as obsidian, blended into the night-time as he slid up to Lumi's driveway. He stepped out fluidly, striding towards the freezing boy. 

 

"Apologies for making you wait, love." 

 

" 's fine." 

 

His voice was slurred from the cold, and he tightened the hoodie around him. Benedict leaned over and picked up the small green bag behind Lumi. 

 

"Is this all you care to take, love?" 

 

"It's... it's all I have that I care about." 

 

  Benedict nodded, regarding Lumi with an unnerving stare. He slung the bag over his shoulder and motioned for the boy to follow him, opening the passenger-side door. Lumi stumbled slightly as he entered, breathing in the suffocating scent of cigars. It was like a thick fog throughout the car, tinged with something a little deeper, earthier. His bag was thrown haphazardly into the backseat and Benedict stepped in, long, black-clad legs first. He turned the heat on before wrapping his thin fingers around the wheel and driving off, the car purring. 

 

"Thank you," Lumi sucked in a deep breath, "Mr. Cumberbatch, I didn't really, expect you to answer, but I'm really grateful and-" 

 

The driver waved a hand dismissively.

 

"No problem, love. I'm not special." 

 

  The boy just nodded, melting into the black hoodie. An embarrassed flush had risen to his cheeks as he'd spoken. Benedict didn't seem to mind, as he'd been smiling softly at him when he'd continued to ramble on. He turned a small knob on the dashboard, and the faint sound of violins could be heard. He hummed as he drove. His dashboard was oddly lacking a clock, just a few small black knobs and a thin glowing line. Lumi didn't even know where he was going, but he strangely didn't care, a soft, gentle fog coming over him. He felt- warm, and safe. Benedict turned towards him. 

 

"Did you sneak past your step-father?" 

 

"Oh-uh, yes," Lumi's voice was distant, "he was sleeping, I guess."

 

"Mhm." 

 

  The car stopped. They were in front of a tall white colonial home. A familiar-looking man sat in a rocking chair on the wrap-around porch, smoking. Benedict picked up Lumi's bag and opened the passenger side door. Lumi clumsily stood, accepting Benedict's outstretched hand.  

 

"Lumi, love, this is the home I'm renting." 

 

"Oh, uh, okay," he yawned. 

 

  The man on the porch laughed, a short bark. He brought a slim cigarette to his lips, sucking in his cheeks. Lumi started. It was the man from Brent's, the  _presence._ His red hair was actually curly and went down only a little further than the nape of his neck. He was wearing the same suit, but the flower had changed from a pink gladiolus to a lavender. His eyes followed Lumi intently, almost hungrily. 

 

"Felicity left a few minutes ago. She was," he motioned vaguely to Lumi, "hungry, I believe." 

 

  Benedict stiffened, a near-growl emitting from him. He gripped the boy's arm tightly, and tugged him towards the door. An angry look had briefly fallen over his face, but he closed the door and a smooth, controlled smile appeared in it's place. He gently led Lumi upstairs, the boy not saying a word. His eyes felt heavy, too heavy, and he fell limply against Benedict's side, letting him lead. A green door lay at the end of the darkened hallway, the walls completely clear of any decoration. Behind the door was just as plain, a simple bronze bed-frame with a green brocade duvet. Silver filigree swirled over the thick fabric, and Benedict gently led him to the edge, motioning for him to sit. He lay Lumi's bag by the side and pulled the duvet and sheets back. Wordlessly, Lumi tugged his hoodie off and sniffled, curling up on the bed. He was half-asleep already when he felt Benedict tuck him in, much like a mother would. 

 

His voice was small, quiet. "Thank you..."

 

A soft hum escaped Benedict. 

 

"Goodnight, Lumi."  

 

He regarded the sleeping boy quietly, running his fingers through the thick blonde curls of his hair. Someone gently knocked on the door, and he bristled, pulling away.  

 

"Ben. Can I come in?" 

 

Thomas. That was fine, he supposed. 

 

"Yes. Be quiet." 

 

Thomas entered soundlessly, like a shadow. He looked at the boy curiously. So familiar. Benedict looked at him, shielding the boy with his body.  

 

"Do you feel it, Tom?" Benedict's voice was soft, inquisitive. 

 

"I," he gulped, "yes, I do. I did not think that it was possible, I, how could he return?" 

 

"I don't believe he did. The boy told me before that his father was gone. Perhaps it is that he had no father." 

 

Thomas trembled and gripped the bedpost. His- his only love returned, if only partially. Why would the cosmos do such a thing to him? How cruel could they be? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens (OooooOOOOooooo). What do you guys think? I love any criticism or praise!


	6. Swirl

_ He whimpered, pressing his bloody hand against his abdomen. Blood dripped between his fingers, soaking through the plain cotton shift he wore. His stumbling gait kicked up dust from the sandy ground. Darkness clouded his peripheral vision and he parted his lips, trying to cry for help, the plea buried in his throat by a thick fog. Cold, strong arms wrapped around his waist and turned him around. Hot tears trickled down his face, and he buried himself into the person’s chest, a soft cry leaving him; he shook under the grip of the icy arms that held him tight, and drops of water, freezing, fell onto his shaking shoulders.  _

 

_ “No, no…”  _

 

_  The scene dissolved into nothingness, a faint voice whispering into his ear:  _

 

_ “Don’t trust him... don’t trust him… don’t trust him…”  _

 

 Lumi gasped into the pillow, bringing his knees up to his chest tightly and sobbing. The rough denim of his jeans pressed against his chest under the thick, warm duvet. He sniffled, nuzzling into the mattress. Sunlight streamed into the room, and he sat up quietly, keeping the duvet wrapped around him. The room was plain, white-washed walls and light wooden floors. His backpack leaned against the frame of the bed, the zipper slightly down. 

 

 The faint sounds of a conversation could be heard, floating up to the bare room through the floorboards. He wiped his eyes, a few stray tears escaping, and stood lightly on the naked wood. They creaked, and the conversation stopped. Lumi had paused, running his fingers through his wild curls and smoothing his wrinkled t-shirt when the green door opened, shiny black shoes coming to a halt at the entrance. 

 

“Did you sleep well?” 

 

 The boy nodded mutely, not yet fully awake. He rubbed his eyes and stretched, turning towards the man at the door. It was the  _ presence _ , but it had changed into a blue suit and been shorn; without the beard and with shorter hair, it looked less frightening, but it’s eyes looked straight through Lumi, keen and dark. It moved closer, head tilted curiously. Lumi just stood still, widened eyes watching the  _ presence  _ stroke his cheek with it’s calloused hand. He pulled back softly, parting his lips to speak. A rough thumb traced the freckles on his cheekbone before the hand was tugged back. He let out a breath, looking down away from the intense blue-green stare. The  _ presence  _ murmured something softly before blinking, backing away. 

 

“I am sorry, I…”, he sucked in a breath, “I could not help myself.” 

 

Lumi sniffled. “ ‘s fine.”

 

It was fine, oddly enough. He’d… enjoyed the touch. 

 

“You must be hungry.” 

 

A growl escaped his stomach, and he flushed. 

 

“A, uh, a little bit, sir.” 

 

The  _ presence  _ chuckled. 

 

“My name is not sir, child. You may call me Thomas. Your name is Lumi, yes?” 

 

 Lumi nodded and picked at his fingernails. The  _ presence _ –Thomas– turned around, and Lumi followed him downstairs. He was led past an almost empty living room to a simple kitchen area. He motioned to a stool at the bar, turned towards a shiny fridge. The boy sat down, running his fingertips over the cool, blanched counter. Lines of black and blue interspersed the marble, dotted with small sparkles. 

 

“All we have are these.” 

 

Thomas was holding a gallon of two percent milk and plain corn flakes. 

 

Lumi giggled at the sight of this intimidating man holding such mundane items. “That’s fine.” 

 

 A faint smile ghosted Thomas’ face at the light, airy giggle, and he pulled a bowl out. He passed it to Lumi, pulling a spoon out of the drawer right next to him and leaning against the counter, curiously regarding him as he ate. They sat in silence, the boy eating hurriedly, as if the food would be taken away. He did appear thin, the skin of his face drawn tight across gaunt cheekbones. He was far too young for such a look; youth had prevented his skin from a sallow, dull appearance. Blonde curls shook as he chewed, and Thomas nearly reached out to stroke them, stopping himself and running his fingers through his own newly shorn hair instead. 

 

 Lumi flushed under his gaze, the spoon clattering against the empty bowl. He relaxed, his stomach full for the first time in weeks. 

 

“Sorry for eating like such an animal.” 

 

Thomas waved it away. “Where are you from, Lumi?” 

 

“New York. Moved here with my stepfather.” 

 

“Mm. Won’t your mother notice you’re gone?” 

 

A dry laugh left him. “Not for a while. She doesn’t notice me even when I am there. Besides, I’m seventeen. Probably just think that I ran away or something.”

“Lumi, you  _ did  _ run away.” 

 

Lumi’s cheeks flushed. “Only kind of.” 

 

“Only kind of,” Thomas smirked, eyes twinkling. 

 

Keys jingled at the front door. Thomas tensed, walking crisply to peek at the source.  

 

“Lorraine. Nice to see you again.” His tone did not sound pleased to see her. 

 

A flash of magenta pushed past him, rushing to Lumi. He started at the sight. 

 

“Mrs. Grise!”

“Dear, are you okay? Has anyone hurt you?” 

 

 She cupped his cheeks, eyes crinkled in concern as she smoothed his curls back. Her eyes ran over Lumi’s apparel, frowning at the wrinkled state of them. 

 

“Of course! Why would you think somebody would hurt me?” 

 

 Thomas leaned against the doorframe with his arms crossed, snorting at Lumi’s statement. He quirked his eyebrow up at Lorraine’s behavior; her concern was peculiar, but perhaps not surprising, given her own personal experience. He strode towards them, ignoring the dirty look that she shot him. 

 

“Of course no one would hurt you,” her eyes met Thomas’ at this, “you just never know what could happen.” She wrapped her arms around Lumi in a tight embrace, stepping back and tugging his wrinkled t-shirt down.  

 

“Am I going to have the pleasure of your acknowledgement now?” 

 

“You’re acknowledged, Thomas. Can I speak to you in another room?” 

 

 He nodded, stepping aside for her to walk ahead of him. They stood against the living room wall, and her lips drew thin at the sight of the shifting, jaundiced chair. Thomas stood tall, arms still crossed, eyeing her curiously.

 

“Flora, I did not want the boy to be taken here.” 

 

She whispered back furiously. 

 

“It doesn’t matter what your intentions are! He is a child!” 

“He is more than that. You know it too.” 

 

She straightened, radiating anger. The floral print of her skirts brightened, turning an angry red. 

 

“Still a child. Benedict has brought him to the one place he should not be,” her voice had changed to a hiss, “you know what our kind… do to such things.” 

 

 The padding of bare feet on wooden floors could be heard through the walls, and they both stepped back from each other, tension dissipating between them. Lumi glanced over the door-frame. 

 

“Sorry for interrupting.” 

 

Thomas smiled tensely at him. “It’s fine. What is it?” 

 

“I, uh,” he blushed, “I have to go to the bathroom.” 

 

“It’s upstairs to the right.” 

 

 Lumi nodded and thanked him meekly, hurrying upstairs to escape his withering stare. He stumbled slightly on the steps and walked through the dark hallway, opening a cream-colored door to the right of the bedroom and flicked the light switch, revealing a bare bathroom; the wallpaper was bright yellow, and the lights flickered faintly. He leaned against the alabaster sink, taking a deep breath and looking at himself in the mirror. The bags under his eyes had all but disappeared, and he frowned at the sight of his chubby cheeks, the feminine curls he could never control, the too-long eyelashes. He rubbed the tip of his nose, little blackheads visible on his chin and cheeks. 

 

 The way Thomas had looked at him left him with an odd sensation; an almost longing in the pit of his stomach. He could remember the feel of his rough fingertips on his cheeks and ran his own over the same spot, seeking the same sensation. The t-shirt he wore was simple, plain white cotton, not doing much for his figure. The jeans he’d chosen were faded dark blue, too tight on his chubby thighs, his too-full shape. 

 

 Lumi walked to the bedroom and picked up his backpack, carrying it over to the bathroom. He brushed his teeth quietly in front of the mirror, spitting into the sink; he watched it swirl down the sink, disappearing into the drain. His pale, bony fingers gripped the edge tightly, his knuckles whitening. The water slowly trailed down, leaving a faint trail of his blue and white toothpaste in the marble. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so tired, oh my god. Ok. I'm going to bed, enjoy the new chapter! As always, I love criticism and praise.

**Author's Note:**

> Going to update weekly (mostly!). Tell me all about what you think of it!


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